I never quite know what to do with my time anymore. It sits a little too heavy on my hands, presses in around me from all directions.
I pull out my earphones, attach them to my laptop, blast Skrillex into my ears until it almost feels like I'm going deaf. So I can't hear the quiet, the time, whatever reminds me that I'm wasting my life away.
Now my sister is scratching away at the piano, tapping out harmonious classical pieces, a music box melody with no feeling and no expression behind the carefully painted notes.
It contrasts strangely with the dubstep: all sharp angles and beats and noise, really (but there's feeling behind the noise, real feeling, raw energy) -- one assaulting me from inside while the polished, boring, planned out tones (dry, practiced too many times) try to knock down the walls I have put up.
I prefer my loud, headache-inducing dance music.
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